


On The Threshold

by soo



Category: Askewniverse
Genre: M/M, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-04
Updated: 2004-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soo/pseuds/soo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when you think one door is closed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Threshold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joanne_c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanne_c/gifts).



Banky looked around the comic shop and wondered for the millionth time just what he was doing here. He hadn't seen Holden for five years, which was pretty fucking amazing when he thought about it. They'd lived two towns apart all that time, and not once had they run into each other.

He peered around the cardboard Superman, hoping Hooper had gotten bored of waiting in front of the shop and he could escape. Fuck. Hooper was still there, and he didn't look like he was gonna move anytime soon.

Banky sighed. Hooper was right. If he wanted to move on, he had to get this over with. He took a big breath and moved further into the store. It didn't take long; a few short steps, and he stopped dead.

Holden hadn't changed much in five years, and if the tightness in his chest was any indication, then neither had Banky's feelings.

Another deep breath, and he was moving again. Without looking he picked up the nearest comic and slid it across the counter. Banky grinned a little as Holden rang up the purchase without even glancing up.

"Ah, Baby Dave. You made a good choice, this issue has already gone into a second printing."

Surprised and a little embarrassed that he picked up his own comic, Banky mumbled, "I know."

Holden looked up. "Banky."

Banky couldn't read Holden's face. Maybe some things had changed in five years. "Holden."

"Buying your own comic?"

Banky shifted uncomfortably and snuck a glance towards the door. "Well, like you said, it's hard to come by."

"It's good -- real good." Holden bagged and handed him the comic. He moved out from behind the counter and into Banky's personal space.

Self-conscious, Banky took a step back. "I took a page from your book and wrote something personal."

"It was definitely...personal."

Banky grimaced. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind? It's what I thought we should've been doing all along. Fuck, it's better than the work we did together on 37." Holden pulled another issue off the rack, flipping it open to point to a specific panel. "Right here, when Dave says_"

Banky watched as Holden flipped the pages of the book, and when he stopped on page nine, he knew what Holden was going to say, and said it first. "Some doors shouldn't be opened..."

Holden nodded. "Some doors shouldn't be opened."

Banky accepted it as the apology it was meant to be. "So, how come you decided to become a comic shop owner?"

"It just sort of happened. I heard that John wanted to retire, and he couldn't find a buyer." Holden shrugged. "We spent a lot of time here as kids, and I didn't want to lose it."

They stood in silence for a minute, and it was more comfortable than Banky would have expected. "You're not working on anything, then?"

"I am it's just...not going as planned."

Banky smiled. "Let me take a look?"

Holden shifted uncomfortably, then said, "Sure, why not." He moved back around the counter and indicated Banky should follow. He pulled out a folder of drawings and flipped through them till he found where the actual pages started, and handed them over.

Banky drew in his breath as he looked. "The art is probably the best you've ever done. The light, the textures. The colors." He picked up one of the pages and held it up to the light. "What's wrong?"

"The dialogue is off."

Banky scanned the pages. "It does seem a little...proper."

"Yeah, they're supposed to be angels, but..."

Banky blinked at him. "Have you been listening to those stoners again?"

"Jay and Silent Bob?"

Banky set the pages down on the desk." Yeah, they're claiming that they met God and that they're Her prophets."

Holden laughed. "Prophets, them?"

"That's what they claim." He paged through the rest of the art, smiling. "Maybe you should make them sound more like you and me. If they're supposed to be living on earth and trying to fit in..."

Holden nodded and bent over one of the pages, and carefully erased the dialogue. He paused to consider, then wrote in a new line. He stepped back to let Banky see the new dialogue.

Banky peered down at the line, and then back up at Holden. Fuck, it felt good to be working with Holden, even on something so minor. He watched as Holden bit his lip.

It would be so easy to lean over and kiss him. He stepped back and steeled himself against that thought. It would be too easy to fall back into old patterns.

He looked down at the page and actually read it this time. Banky laughed. Only Holden. "That's better."

Holden smiled. "You said to make it sound like us." He glanced at the clock. "The junior high crew should be here any minute." He closed the folder of drawings reluctantly.

Banky glanced out to see Hooper still waiting patiently. He probably should be going. "I'll see you around sometime?"

"I'd like that."

Banky moved out from behind the counter and headed towards the door. Things hadn't gone exactly as he thought they would, but nothing in life ever did.

"Banky. Still have a thing for girls who say 'aboot?'"

Banky paused. Girl's who say 'aboot.' That had been a long time ago. He turned around and shook his head.

"I'm partial to angels who have a fondness for clergy molestation jokes." He pushed open the door and ran into Hooper. "What the fuck is this about?"

Hooper stepped back and brushed off his leather jacket. "Just wanna make sure that you aren't running away."

"I'm not fucking running away." Banky made to go around Hooper, and was thwarted. "We talked, okay?"

Hooper nodded.

Banky scowled. Hooper never gave up that easily. The bell on the comic shop door chimed, and he turned to see Holden standing too close for comfort.

Holden reached out, taking a hold of his arm before he could move away. A jolt shot through him. The air around them became electric, and he found it difficult to breathe.

"I meant what I said; I want to see you again."

He searched Holden's eyes, and for the first time, he saw his feelings returned. He swallowed hard. "Okay."

"I close at seven."

Banky's eyes widened. That was a lot sooner then he'd expected. "Seven," he agreed, throwing caution to the wind.

Two small boys came careening around the corner, and Holden opened the door for them.

Banky turned to walk down the street, and Hooper followed silently. Maybe some doors shouldn't be opened, but then some shouldn't be closed, either.

  



End file.
